Twelve

TWELVE

Mia

I'd just set my breakfast dish in the sink when the knock came at my door.

My eyes flew to the clock on my oven, saw it was just two minutes after nine, and a wave of uncertainty washed over me.

Was I losing my mind?

Had I been too out of sorts yesterday that I'd gotten the time for today wrong? I was positive I was supposed to be meeting Brock for dinner at six tonight, but since I wasn't expecting any visitors, I could only assume it was him again.

Still feeling sleepy, I made my way to the front door, pulled it open, and found that I wasn't wrong about my visitor.

Brock was standing there, looking refreshed and ready to go. Suddenly, any of the remaining confidence I'd had about my plans for the day today flew out the window. Brock was entirely too alert to be here on a whim.

Had I agreed to breakfast and dinner and not realized it?

If that was the case, I was utterly embarrassed. Because for the second time in less than twenty-four hours, I was standing in front of Brock wearing nothing but a soft, blue nightgown with a matching robe that wasn't tied.

And though it was clear he didn't seem to mind the view at all—his eyes drifted over my body from head to toe and back again—I felt slightly mortified. It was one thing for it to happen last night when it was late, and I had no expectation of him showing up on my doorstep. But it was something else entirely for me to have agreed to something, forgotten about it, and not even been dressed decently when the man arrived.

Not that it made any difference now—he'd already seen what he was going to see—I pulled at either side of my robe and attempted to close it over the front of my body as I said, "Good morning, Brock."

He smiled, happiness radiating from him. "Good morning, Mia."

"Did I get it wrong? I was sure we agreed to have dinner tonight."

"We did."

"Okay, so did I also agree to having breakfast and forgot about it?" I questioned him, genuine curiosity in my tone.

Through his laughter, Brock reassured me. "You didn't forget anything. And I'm sorry for just dropping by unannounced like this for the second time. I should have asked you this last night, but I guess I was a bit distracted. Once I got home, I thought about what I was going to make for dinner tonight, but I remembered your aversion to eggs and lemon cookies. Is there anything else that you might normally eat that you can't stomach at the moment? Or do you have any allergies or things you simply don't like, regardless of being pregnant?"

Maybe it was the tension that had been moving through my body leading up to his declaration that prevented me from falling, because I couldn't come up with another explanation as to how I didn't crumble to the ground after all that Brock had just said.

The man blew me away.

My baby's father couldn't be bothered to ask how I was feeling or even keep the sonogram I'd attempted to give him. Brock was standing here asking me about what foods I might not like to have for dinner.

Perhaps I was far too blind when I was with Todd to realize he wasn't the guy I had wanted to believe or convinced myself he was.

The astonishment sort of took over, and I had a hard time thinking straight. So, in an effort to pull myself together, instead of answering his question, I asked one of my own. "Well, what are my options? Did you have something specific you hoped to make?"

His eyes roamed over my face in the sweetest way, forcing my belly to dip. "I really hoped to be able to make chicken tacos for us tonight, but if that doesn't work for you, I could do a baked pasta dish. If neither of those sound good, I'm happy to make some steaks or salmon. I just want to be sure that there will be something you like to eat."

This guy was pulling out all the stops for this dinner. I didn't want to read too much into it, to believe this meant more to him than it actually did, but he wasn't making it easy.

"Chicken tacos sound wonderful," I replied quietly, still attempting to come to grips with how his consideration for me made me feel.

"Are you sure? I don't want you to feel like you must agree to having those because they're what I'd hoped to make," he said.

"I'm sure. In fact, I've been noticing lately that the idea of red sauce makes me feel a bit queasy, so the pasta dish probably would have been an issue for me."

Smiling proudly, Brock declared, "Chicken tacos it is."

"That sounds wonderful. I can't wait to try them. Would you like me to bring anything?"

He shook his head. "No. I don't want you to worry about bringing anything, unless there's something you want or need that'll help you enjoy yourself. I've got everything else covered."

"Okay. I'll see you tonight, then."

He studied me for a beat in silence, a look of genuine excitement in his expression. Then he said, "I'm looking forward to having dinner with you, Mia."

I closed my eyes briefly, not wanting to allow myself to get too caught up in the way he was making me feel. I needed to do something to break the tension. Opening my eyes again, I said, "Me, too. And I promise the next time you see me, I'll be in real clothes."

I'd meant for my comment to be lighthearted and funny. I assumed Brock would laugh, say goodbye, and walk away. He didn't do that.

Instead, he allowed his eyes to rake over my body again, something darkening in his gaze, and when he returned his attention to me to speak, his voice had dipped an octave or two. "Don't do that on my account. You could show up in what you're wearing now, and I wouldn't mind at all."

My lips parted. "You don't mean that."

"I do," he insisted. "We're having dinner at my house, which is right next to yours. We're not going to be at some five-star restaurant. I'm okay with you wearing whatever you're comfortable in."

Brock was such a good man. I shouldn't have had any thoughts about something romantic with him, because I'd only wind up disappointed, but it was difficult not to have those thoughts when he was the way he was.

"I appreciate that. I'm sure I can find something that isn't meant for bed but will also keep me comfortable," I shared.

He dipped his chin. "Okay. Well, I'll get out of your hair for now, and I'll see you tonight."

"That sounds great. See you later."

With that, Brock sent a dazzling smile my way and turned to leave. Once he walked away, I closed the door, locked it, and turned to rest my back against it. Letting out a sigh, I wondered if this was a mistake.

Was I setting myself up for a disaster?

I had entered unfamiliar territory.

Nerves were not something I was accustomed to experiencing on a regular basis.

Not once in all the times I was aware I'd see Brock—or even when I happened to run into him by chance—did I ever feel nervous. Not when I came home from work and knew he'd be at the mailbox, not when I was aware he'd be shoveling snow at the same time as me, nor when I marched over to his place to ask if he could lend me two eggs.

Even in my regular life, it wasn't typical.

The most recent time I'd felt anxious was on Christmas Eve, when I'd been preparing to share news of my pregnancy with Todd. But that was a big life change, and although I'd felt some anxiety about it, I think it was mostly excitement and anticipation about his reaction more than anything else.

This felt different.

I didn't know what was causing it or how to handle it. I'd spent a lot of time since yesterday thinking about Brock, and it seemed that had led to me working myself into a bit of a frenzy, despite my efforts to distract myself with baby-related tasks.

I wanted to have a good time with him tonight. I wanted it to be nice. Other than that one mishap yesterday when I'd wrongly assumed he no longer wanted to have dinner with me, or that time Todd was a jerk when I introduced them, I'd never been around Brock and not felt completely at ease.

We got along great, and there hadn't ever been instances of awkward silence. I'd always had a knack for opening up and talking to people. I was outgoing and friendly by nature.

So, to be making my way over to Brock's place while experiencing so many nerves felt strange.

I took several slow, deep breaths as I walked along the path toward his front door just a few minutes before six o'clock. If I stood any chance of not ruining the night, of not making myself look like a fool again, I had to pull myself together.

No expectations.

That's what I needed to do.

Heading into the evening, I just needed to be myself. The unnecessary pressure wasn't helping me, so if I could get myself into the mindset that the possibility of something more than just a friendly dinner between neighbors wasn't the case here, I'd be okay.

I made it to the door, lifted my hand to it, and knocked.

A moment later, Brock was standing in front of me with a sweet look on his face. "Hi, Mia."

"Hi, Brock."

"Come on in."

My belly trembled a bit as I stepped into his house and caught a whiff of his cologne as I did. It was no secret I'd been battling with different fragrances over the last few weeks. There were some scents I just couldn't stand—eggs in any cooked form, ugh.

What I inhaled when I stepped past Brock was nothing short of delightful. An undeniable smell of masculinity. It was slightly woodsy, warm, earthy, and with a hint of lime.

Perhaps it was the lime that did me in. I hadn't hidden how much the citrus fragrances were appealing to me. I allowed my thoughts to drift somewhere they shouldn't have. If I tasted Brock the way I tasted that lemon cookie yesterday, I didn't think I'd have the same reaction.

Shaking my head, needing to rid it of the unhelpful thoughts, I said, "I hope I'm not too late or early."

"You have perfect timing, because I'm just about ready with the food," he replied, leading me away from the door and toward the dining area. The table had already been set with our plates, napkins, utensils, and toppings for the tacos. "Grab a seat, and I'll be right over with the rest of the food."

I sat in the same seat I'd been in when I joined Brock and Izzy for lunch last week. Brock returned with the rest of the food, which looked amazing. My mouth watered; my belly growled.

"These look so delicious," I told him as he lowered himself down onto his chair.

"Thanks. I think they taste great, but I'll wait to toot my own horn until you tell me what you think of them," he said.

For the next little while, we took to assembling our tacos. Once I sunk my teeth in and tasted the flavors on my tongue, I let out a moan of delight. My eyes widened in surprise at just how good they tasted.

After swallowing that first bite, I immediately took a second and moaned again. And only after I'd swallowed that bite did I share my thoughts. "Either I'm hungrier than I thought, which is a very real possibility these days, or these are the best tacos I've ever had."

Brock laughed, the smile lighting up his face, and the sound easing those lingering nerves I'd been feeling. I should have known this would be okay.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"You should," I said as I nodded, smiled, and took another bite. "Did you slave away on this all day today?"

Clearly still amused, his lips twitched. "No. I did some work out in my shop earlier this morning. This didn't take me that long."

"It tastes like it did."

"What about you? What did you do today?"

It was right on the tip of my tongue to tell him that I'd done anything I could to avoid thinking so much about him. Instead, I shared, "I decided it was time to search for baby items."

"Like clothes?" he asked.

"No. No, I'm trying not to do too much of that just yet. I was thinking more along the lines of furniture. I spent most of my time trying to decide on a crib."

"Did you find one you liked?"

I nodded. "I did. But I'm having a tough time bringing myself to order it."

Curiosity washed over his expression. "Why is that?"

Shrugging, I confessed, "I don't know. It took me a while to come to terms with having to do this all on my own, and now that I've accepted that, I guess I'm worried I'll make the wrong decisions."

Brock sent a look of understanding my way. "I think what you're feeling is normal, Mia. The fact that you're worried about making a mistake tells me you're going to do exactly what needs to be done. The crib you select isn't going to make a difference in the end, as long as your baby is happy and healthy."

God, where was this man weeks ago? I'd spent so much time agonizing over every little decision I made when it came to the baby, and Brock eased my concerns with just a few words. None of what I was worried about when it came to choosing a crib or stroller or highchair would really matter in the end. I just wanted my baby to be happy and healthy.

Feeling reassured and comforted by that, I smiled and said, "You're right. Thank you for saying that."

"Anytime. So, when does this little bundle of joy arrive?"

"I'm due on August 28 th ."

"Do you know if you're having a boy or a girl yet?"

With a slight shake of my head, I answered, "No. I'm right around that time where I could find out with an ultrasound, but I keep flip-flopping between finding out now and waiting until the delivery to be surprised."

The next thing I knew, my body froze. Because Brock nonchalantly placed his hand on my forearm, stroked back and forth two or three times, and gave me a reassuring squeeze.

Why did everything he said or did have to be so comforting?

"See? You've already got it figured out."

Doing my best to ignore how much I liked having his hand on my arm, I asked, "What do you mean?"

He pulled his hand away, swept it in my direction, and reached for another taco as he explained, "If I had to guess, unless you're a woman who just loves surprises, maybe you realize that it really won't matter if you have a boy or girl. In the end, you just want a happy and healthy baby."

I stared at him for several long seconds in silence, willing myself not to jump out of my seat and into his lap. "How did you know that?"

Brock shrugged. "When my brother found out that Izzy's mom was pregnant, he said he hoped he was having a boy. And he had an honest reaction when they learned they were having a girl. He wasn't mad, but he certainly felt disappointed. But the minute that little girl was born, his whole world changed. He couldn't love her more if he tried. She's the whole light of his life."

My heart warmed. "She really is such a sweet girl. Was she at dinner yesterday?"

"She was. And she didn't hesitate to announce the news of you to my mother," Brock revealed through his laughter.

My brows shot up. "Me? What did she say about me?"

He continued to smile. "Let's just say that she adores you. As soon as I sat down, she asked me if I saw you yesterday. Of course, I told her all about the cookies you made. My brother informed me that Izzy talked about you all week long, making it clear she couldn't wait to come back here for a visit, so she could see you again."

I wanted to cry. Brock's niece was adorable, and I loved spending that time with her last week. The only thing that likely prevented me from bursting into tears was the question I had about one other person in the equation. "How did your mom react to this news?"

"She asked some questions, wondering who you were and how Izzy knew you, but the conversation didn't linger for too long on you, if that's what you're worried about. Izzy quickly changed topics, and we moved on to discuss other things."

That hadn't exactly been bad news, but I wasn't sure it was great either. I mean, Brock and I weren't more than just neighbors, so I shouldn't have expected much, but I couldn't say I wasn't curious about how he had answered the questions his mom had asked.

Instead of pressing that issue, I took another approach. "So, when is yours?"

"Mine? My what?"

"Your birthday."

"February 21 st ."

I grew outwardly disappointed. "Oh, man. We missed your birthday. I wish I had known. Did you celebrate?"

Laughing, Brock shrugged. "It's alright. I had a good day, I guess. It was during the week this year, so I went to work. And I went out with my family that weekend. What about you? When's your birthday?"

"September 24 th ."

His brows shot up. "About a month after the baby then, right?"

I nodded. "Yep. I've found myself wondering if he or she is going to come early or on time and remain an August baby, or if he or she will come a few days later and have a September birthday like me."

"That would be fun. You could spend the whole month celebrating."

Laughter spilled out of me. "That's certainly a possibility. I do like a good party."

"That's pretty much the opposite of me," Brock shared.

I reached for another taco, my head tipping to one side. "Really? You don't like parties? Izzy thinks you're a lot of fun. How can that be possible?"

Brock set his taco down and took a sip of his drink. "It's not that I don't like parties for other people. I enjoy celebrating with everyone else, but I'm not someone who likes being the center of attention. I've always been that way."

I found this news mind-blowing. "Not even as a kid?"

He shook his head. "Nope. Chris didn't mind having big parties and inviting friends from school, but I never wanted that. I always did the small celebration with family, and even that felt mildly uncomfortable."

"Why do you think that is?"

Brock shrugged again. "I don't know. I guess you could say I'm more of an introverted person by nature. I mean, I'll easily have conversation with someone, and I don't live this completely solitary life. I enjoy celebrating others. But I don't feel like I need any of that. I've always been happy with simplicity."

Coming into this dinner with Brock tonight, I really didn't know what to expect. While I suspected I'd have a great time, and I knew we'd have conversation that went deeper than just the day-to-day stuff about work or the kid-friendly conversation about animals, I hadn't anticipated what it'd be like to get what I was getting.

I enjoyed this.

I enjoyed getting to know Brock on this level.

Because if it hadn't been for him sharing it with me now, I never would have guessed any of what he'd just told me.

And now that I had it, I couldn't stop myself from wondering what he thought of me. "I guess I can understand that all to a certain degree. I mean, I don't need parties or anything like that, but I do enjoy when people take the time to celebrate moments with me. And I'm pretty sure you know I already love to talk. I've always been that way, too. When I was a kid, my parents were always worried that somebody might snatch me, because I didn't hesitate to walk up and talk to strangers."

"That's dangerous."

"It didn't feel that way to me," I explained. "We'd take a trip to the beach, or my mom and I could go to the mall, and I'd make friends anywhere I was. Whether it was the beachfront hotel, the food court at the mall, or a festival, I made friends everywhere."

Brock sent a look of genuine surprise my way. "And did you maintain friendships with all of these people?"

Shaking my head, I replied, "Not really. Like, if we were on vacation, I'd have kids around my age that I'd hang out with while we were on the beach or at the hotel pool, but I'd never see them again after that trip. Of course, that's not the case in every scenario. I have a few people I've met along the way that I've maintained some level of communication with, whether merely acquaintances or something a little deeper."

"I already thought you and I were opposites in that regard, and this solidifies it for me," Brock declared.

I bit the corner of my lip. "Is that a bad thing?"

"I don't think so. Not at all. I'm merely making an observation of how different we are when it comes to something like that."

Okay.

That made me feel better.

Wanting to know more, I asked, "So, what was one of the most uncomfortable situations you've ever been in?"

"Oh, man, probably the time I went to a summer camp the one year with my brother," he shared. "I hadn't realized they were keeping track of everything we accomplished throughout the summer, and at the end of it, there was an awards ceremony. I ended up winning in two different categories, and I needed to stand up not only in front of all the counselors and kids at the camp but all of the parents and families, too."

I smiled brightly at him. Obviously, I could understand how difficult it must have been for him as a kid, but he clearly made it through okay.

"Oh, wow," I marveled. "Tell me more. What kind of camp was it? And what awards did you win?"

Brock took in a deep breath, doing it as his lips twitched, and I realized I hadn't been wrong. He might not have enjoyed it as a kid, but he'd clearly made it to the other side unscathed.

Throughout the rest of dinner and even through dessert, Brock shared his camp experience with me as I told him more about things I'd done as a kid. We laughed a lot, and I thoroughly enjoyed myself.

"This was really wonderful tonight, Brock. I had such a good time, and it was nice not having to eat dinner alone."

"Yeah, I agree. I'm up for doing it again, if you'd like."

I should have declined. I liked this way too much, and if Brock continued to give it to me, I was going to gobble up every second of it. Sure, I thought it would be okay to be friendly with my neighbor and have the occasional dinner together, but I didn't think I'd have the same feelings toward having continued dinners with Brock as I would if I was sitting down for dinner with Russ and Janel.

There was an obvious physical attraction to Brock already for me. If I got to know him even better, I was bound to be in a world of hurt.

But apparently, I didn't care how bad this could turn out to be for me. Because I grinned and said, "I'd love to do this again sometime."

"Great. We'll figure that out soon, then."

I offered a nod of understanding and said, "Well, I should probably head back home. I've got to go to work tomorrow, and I'm sure you do, too."

"I do. Why don't I walk you back to your place?"

"You don't have to do that."

He shook his head. "I know. But I'd feel better doing that."

There was no amount of arguing that was going to change his mind. So, I agreed. "Okay."

Brock walked with me to my house, and on the way there, I felt those nerves creeping back in.

I'd walked from his place several times before, and he'd never felt compelled to walk me back home. Was this time different for a reason? Did he consider our dinner at his place something akin to a date? Was he expecting a kiss?

Most importantly, if the answer to those questions was yes, would I turn him down?

It didn't take me long to decide that not only would I not turn him down, but it was likely that I'd welcome a kiss.

We made it to my front door, and I turned toward him. He was looking down at me with that same sweet look he'd had when he showed up on my doorstep this morning.

I wasn't quite sure what to do, so I fumbled with the keys in my hand, silently hoping he'd make that move. When he didn't take steps to cross that line, I said, "Thank you, again, for such a nice night, Brock."

There was a moment of hesitation before he opened his arms and stepped close to give me a hug. "You're welcome, Mia. Thank you for joining me."

I hugged him back, happy to have at least that much from him. When he let go of me, I felt that need to lighten the mood just a touch. So, I said, "If you make those tacos ever again, I just might invite myself."

He laughed. "That sounds like a plan." Another beat of silence filled the air before Brock offered a nod and said, "Goodnight, Mia."

I smiled back at him. "Goodnight, Brock."

A moment later, I unlocked my door and stepped inside. Then Brock turned and walked back to his house.

When I closed the door, I did it with a smile on my face. Because I'd just had the best night in such a long time.